The Perks of Gardening
by lotus-brody
Summary: Bruce gets Tony to help him in his rooftop garden. Certain Things follow. Tony/Bruce


A/N: This evolved from spending the day planting my gardens. I started imagining what Tony and Bruce might get up to, and this came about. :D Also, I am going to write the next chapter for 'Monsters' but I've been working on two different Avenger's plot bunnies that have been chewing on my brain, so it may take awhile. Also, I am sadly without a beta reader for my Avengers fic, so if there's something terribly wrong with grammar or wording, I apologize now. It's two in the morning, and I really need to get to bed.

Summary: Bruce get's Tony to help out with his rooftop garden.

Pairings: Tony/Bruce (Stanner, Truce, Brony, Science Alliance, whatever you want... this ship has taken me over)

Disc: Own nothing, that's why I'm here!

`~+0+~`

"Stop being such a baby," said Bruce, wiping away a bead of sweat at his temple. "You're being ridiculous."

"No, _you_ are. I fail to see how this could be a good idea," said Tony, glaring down at Bruce.

Bruce sighed. "You're the one who wants to be self-sustaining. This is part of it," he waved a dirt coated spade at the raised planters.

"Self-sustaining _energy,_ yeah. Not digging in a sandbox."

"It's not a sandbox," he said, trying to be patient. "Look, I didn't have you come up here and help me build the damn thing-"

"You did have me design them."

"Tony."

Tony sighed. "Gardening is not my thing. It's not even close to my thing."

They were on the roof of the Stark tower. Bruce had shown an interest in starting a garden - nothing big, just a few raised plots. Tony, for a lark, had designed a planter system with a complex irrigation system. He'd never actually thought that Bruce would go to the closest hardware store (shiny black Amnex card, courtesy of Stark Industry's, in hand) and buy all of the materials, bring them all home, and haul them up to the roof. Later, when Bruce was sweating and a little sunburnt from arranging the concrete blocks and setting up the irrigation system to tap into the penthouse, Tony had found him and wondered what the hell was with all of the potting soil and weeping tile.

Now here he was in an expensive cream coloured suit and open collared maroon dress shirt (he had to be _cooking)_, with his usual aviator shades on, and shoes that Bruce was willing to bet cost more than some American's made in six months. He certainly didn't look ready for gardening. He looked more like he was heading for a press conference or a cocktail party. Chances were he'd just gotten back from the first and wanted to go to the latter. And he'd probably just come up here to drag Bruce along with him to said party.

Bruce stretched, feeling his back crack once or twice, before he went back to work with the spade. All around him were seeds and partially grown plants, just in their youngest stages.

"You know, you get to reap the rewards of your hard work with strawberries and tomatoes and other fresh and healthy food. When it's done growing, I'll make you something with it." This was usually what it came down to, bribing Tony with either food or sex. "Come on, it's relaxing. Fun. You'll like it."

Tony snorted, obviously not convinced. "It's a Saturday afternoon - the one time I shut myself out of the lab, I might add - and you want to dig in the dirt."

Bruce shrugged, not in the mood to convince him otherwise. He set to work planting his strawberries in a specially chosen plot, segregated from the others to prevent their eventual hostile takeover from runner roots.

He knew Tony was watching, internally debating whether or not to actually help. So he ignored the engineer, wiping sweat away from his brow as he worked, enjoying the hot summer sunshine even though he knew he would burn. It was something that he missed about Kolkata, and pretty much everywhere else in Asia - the burning heat, the thick humidity, the scent of turned earth, of green things growing rampant and beautifully. It was something New York lacked, and he found he could earn a little of it back up here.

He heard a sigh, and smiled. He knew Tony had already agreed to help. He helped him along. "I'll make you _paella."_ He knew it was a low blow. And he knew when he heard Tony's second sigh, and the sound of his jacket being shrugged off, that it had worked. He turned around, trying to fight the smirk off of his face.

"This can only end in sunburns and blisters," said Tony, unbuttoning the silk dress shirt. Bruce watched, unable to help the lazy smile it brings, imagining all the various things he could do on the rooftop, surrounded by stone walls and high enough that even a very adventurous paparazzi with a telescopic lens wouldn't get many candid photos.

"You're going to ruin your pants," said Bruce, as Tony knelt next to him.

"I would have ruined them at the party," he said dismissively. "What first?"

Bruce shrugged. "You can plant the tomatoes," he turned back to the strawberries.

They worked in relative silence, which led Bruce to believe Tony was actually enjoying himself as he planted tomatoes, then pepper plants, digging holes with the spade and pushing the dirt over the delicate saplings roots. Pepper brought up a pitcher of iced green tea, done the way Bruce was fond of, and had to snap a picture of Tony covered with smears of dirt, as proof that it was physically possible for him to do manual labour that didn't involve finely tuned schematics and a hardware set.

The sun had been pounding directly overhead, but gradually made its way east, turning all of the glass windows into bright flares of light. Bruce was aching and sweaty, but it was good - he was thinking of being halfway around the world, and the way he would fall into bed, hitting the pillow after he was asleep.

He glanced at Tony, who was depositing seeds one by one into a little trench, leaning across the planter to do it. His pants were ruined, and at some point he'd ditched the shoes and was working barefoot despite the scorching heat of the roof. A thin white cotton tank top stretched across his muscular torso, damp with sweat and smeared with dirt. The arc reactor's muted blue light was swallowed by the clear, bright sun and nothing more than a pattern to be observed. When he was crouched over, on his knees like that... Bruce's mouth went dry. He didn't often top, preferring the security of being held, but it was times like this that made it hard to think about anything but pushing him down, biting his shoulder as he slipped inside of him, his arms wrapped around his torso, trying to pin him to the mattress...

His hand shook as a wave of heat washed through him. He shook his head. There were still more plants to tend to.

He heard a soft voice and straightened up. Tony, now gently folding soil over top of the peas he'd just planted, was singing.

"What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?" asked Tony, looking over his shoulder at Bruce.

"That song."

"Oh, it's stupid," he said. Bruce wondered if it was a sunburn or embarrassment that had turned his neck red.

"Come on."

"It's this stupid pop song Pepper was playing yesterday." Evidently Tony was not going to admit to the title, whatever it was. "And I remembered that old wives tale that if you sing to plants, they'll grow... So, I figured, why the hell not?"

Bruce smiled. "How cute."

Tony ignored him, digging another trench. Inwardly Bruce was excited that Tony really _was_ enjoying gardening with him. It was just another thing they could do together. They did a lot of things that they both enjoyed - making fun of convoluted sci-fi logic (Doctor Who and Stargate were their favourites, although neither would admit they were both fanboys when it came to both shows), squash, and trolling Steve when he came around asking questions about the 21st century (Steve currently believed that the movie _Cloverfield_ was a documentary, and said creature had returned to the murky depths of the sea. He'd already tried to get Director Fury to assemble the team and destroy the beast, to hilarious results). Now add to the list gardening. It was one of the things Tony might not admit to liking, just like he said he hated the meditating, tea, and breathing techniques (which Bruce knew for a fact Tony fucking loved when it came to the bedroom), but it was there anyway.

After another hour, when every seed had been sown and every sapling carefully set in its new home, Tony rested against the side of one of the planters, wiping sweat away from his head with the strap of his shirt.

Bruce stood, admiring their handiwork. Six rectangular plots were planted, cages and lattice laid out for their growth. Small signs attested to what each plant was, handwritten and punched into the ground at the head of each mound.

Instead of flipping on the irrigation system to give them a well deserved drink he picked up the hose he'd had installed and turned it on. He watered each plot, turning the soil a shining black underneath of the sun. Bruce watched the droplets fall on the leaves, thinking about how relieved they must be to have a bit of water.

Tony yawned, rubbing at his eyes. Without hesitation, and with a hint of an evil smile, Bruce sprayed him in the back.

Tony yelped, spinning around as Bruce turned the spray back to the nearest planter, chuckling. "Whoops."

"What the hell was that for?"

"You're dirty," he said, inspired, and turned the spray on Tony again, admiring the way the now soaked shirt turned translucent against his stomach. "You need to be washed off."

Tony sputtered. Bruce detected a possible temper tantrum, and tossed the hose away before Tony could jump up and leave. He fell to his knees next to him, ignoring the jar of pain, and leaned over. "Much better," he said, and kissed him.

The kiss was a comparison of rough, dusty lips sliding over silky wet. Tony moaned, a lazy sound low in his throat, as their lips parted and their tongues twisted together. Bruce, caught up in a thorough examination of Tony's mouth, didn't notice the engineer's hand snatch at the hose head.

He sputtered, laughing, as a spray of icy water flashed over him. He opened his eyes to look through the droplets at Tony's grin, admiring the way water trickled down in rivulets, sluicing through the dust, matting his hair to his forehead.

"How do you like it now, Banner?" asked Tony.

Bruce responded with a sharp shake of his head, spraying Tony with drops of water. His curls plastered to his skin, but it was comfortable, and the water felt good running down his back, soaking through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, his rolled up pants.

"Love it," he said, pushing the nozzle away. He leaned in, kissing him again, trying to keep it sweet as he tasted Tony's lip, feeling the shift from his rough goatee to his soft, inviting lip, and then deeper into the warmth of his mouth, teasing his tongue, using those little motions he knew drove Tony wild.

He pushed over him again, straddling him. Tony's hands were restless, roaming over his back, curling into his wet hair, dragging down his stomach. Bruce nudges against him, a slow, teasing grind. Despite the cool water Tony's hard against him. He's letting out small, almost whimper-like moans that drive Bruce mad with want.

He hitched his fingers around Tony's waistband and began to undo his belt. The leather is wet and doesn't want to come apart, but he manages after a moment, and clicks the button. Tony tries to help, wiggling his hips up as Bruce tugs the stubborn, wet fabric down and over his hips. Tony's wearing gray boxer briefs, and they hide nothing, clinging to his skin from the water. Bruce ran his palm over his length with the lightest pressure, making Tony thrust up against him, impatient.

He grinned. Tony attempted to glare at him, but his face was flushed, pupils dilated with desire to the point where they'd gone black. He leaned back in, ignoring the spot where his lover wanted him to go, and tugged at the clinging fabric of the tank top.

Once his shirt is peeled off, Bruce is free to admire the arc reactor. Small beads of water roll onto it and from its heat they grow small and disappear, one by one. He leaned in, running his tongue along it. It was warm, and the edges vibrate. Instead of going down he moves to the side, swiping one nipple with his tongue, making Tony jerk, before he moved up, tasting the hollow of his collarbone.

He didn't resist as Tony got impatient and began to tear at his clothes, letting him pull the shirt off of him, even though it seemed to want to stay. He had to struggle out of his pants, grinning to himself as Tony teased him for going commando.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it, doctor?"

"You caught me," he laughed. Tony was still beneath him, one of his clever hands cupped the spot where his leg met the curve of his ass, the other teased a spot on his hip, just inches away from his erection. His brown eyes, though dusky with arousal, were amused. Bruce was going to make a lighthearted quip, but forgot the joke as Tony's hand slid up and wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing rhythmically with his pulse. Bruce moaned as his mouth went dry. It took all of his self control not to thrust into Tony's hand, desperate for friction.

"What do you want, Banner?" asked Tony, looking like he was ready to take the lead.

"What _don't_ I want?" he countered, hooking his fingers around the elastic waistband of his briefs. He started to tug and Tony's hips rose obediently. He sighed as his cock bounced from its confines, a shuddering, needy sound that sent a bolt of heat straight down Bruce's spine. "Shall I tell you everything I'd _like_ to do to you, if time and resources permitted?"

At Tony's nod he began to kiss his way back down his chest, paying attention to his favourite spots. He loved making Tony writhe as he ran his tongue along the groove of his abs, dipping into his navel.

"First, I'd like to taste you," he said, kissing lower over the gentle curve of his abdomen to the dark patch of hair below. He felt Tony's erection nudging him and resisted the urge to go straight there, instead deciding to spend his time on the detour. "I'd suck on you until you're so hot you're begging me to let you come. Then I'd like to put a finger inside of you," Tony shuddered now, as Bruce nipped his thigh, one hand moving up to run along the cleft of his ass, "I'd bring you close to the edge a few times, getting you ready," now, very slow, he ran his tongue along the map of veins from the base of his shaft to the head, ignoring the soft urging sounds pleading for him to continue, "then I'd spread your legs and fuck you, pinning you down here, in the dirt. I'd fuck you until you're yelling loud enough for the next building to hear you." He wrapped his lips around the head and drew him in, moving down as far as he could. Tony shouted, inarticulate, as he wound his fingers into Bruce's curls.

He did some of what he promised, keeping his cheeks hollow and tongue moving fast, as he nudged Tony's legs up. He slipped one finger between his cheeks and found his entrance. He rubbed gently, in slow circles until it relaxes enough for him to slip his fingertip inside. Tony gasped and writhed, his cock pulsed. Bruce noticed his abs starting to tighten in anticipation of an orgasm and he backed off, moving slow, drawing the pleasure to the point where Tony probably felt like he was in pain.

Tony was breathing raggedly, a steady stream of curses about Bruce's teasing muttered low. Bruce could feel the green in his eyes as he grinned up at him, and moved his fingers in a shallow fuck, making his lover buck and twist in the dust. Bruce would do almost anything to have Tony look at him with those half-lidded eyes, that consuming desire.

He sucks the head into his mouth and Tony lets out a strangled groan. With each thrust Bruce feels him tighten around his fingers, and relax. He timed it, sliding in deeper, crooking his finger. He rubbed against the bundle of nerves there and was rewarded with a deeper cry, his name was hidden somewhere inside of it.

"Jesus, Bruce, I want you to fuck me," Tony gasped, making Bruce's cock twitch. He wanted to, gods above he wanted to, but knew without lube he'd just hurt him. _Later, _he thought, moving down lower, drawing his finger in and out in a deeper fuck, and Tony tugged at his hair, his fingers slid around the base of his skull and cupped his head. He almost sounded like he was in pain just before his entire body tightened. "I-I'm.. fuck, I'm coming," he cried.

Bruce didn't pull off, instead he wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft and squeezed in time with each pulse, swallowing what he had to give, ignoring the bitter taste.

Tony slumped back, boneless. Bruce was so hard he was sure if Tony just _looked_ at him he'd come. He reached down, touching himself experimentally, as he watched the other man slowly gain control back.

Tony looked up, staring at Bruce's hand, the way it was enveloping his head as he squeezed, needing to get off.

"Let me," said Tony, his hands cupped his ass as he pulled him forward. Bruce let out a moan he'd been holding as Tony drew him in. It wasn't long before he was coming, between Tony's expertise and the look of his lips wrapped around him. There was a flash of white in his mind as he yelled his name, dragging his fingers through the dirt, convulsing above him.

Tony pulled him down and he lay across his chest, panting. Tony turned his head in a kiss and their tongues met, once, sleepily. Bruce could taste himself and it sent a faint bolt of lust through him.

"If gardening is always going to be like this, count me in," said Tony. Bruce boxed him gently behind the ears, laughing.

`~+0+~`

A month after the rooftop, Bruce found Tony lounging in the living room, an old episode of Top Gear playing. Tony was looking from his phone to the TV, a drink in front of him, ice cracking and melting into the amber liquid. He looked good, mostly naked (they'd had sex on the couch, and he hadn't found the energy to get up yet, apparently).

Bruce was clutching several something's in his hand, sun warm and fragrant. He leaned over the couch.

"Close your eyes," he told him.

Tony raised one eyebrow, but obeyed, snapping his phone off mid-text to Rhodey.

Bruce took one of the berries and pressed it against his lips. He enjoyed watching Tony frown, testing the temperature, then the texture and the scent, before drawing it into his lips. He sucked on the tip of Bruce's finger a moment before letting go, chewing slow.

"Mm. Seduction by berries," he said, opening his eyes.

"Products of our hard labour," said Bruce, holding up the handful as he slid into the seat next to him. "That was the very first one. Good?"

Tony took another from him, and slipped it between his teeth. Bruce moaned a little as Tony pressed his lips up against him, then slipped it into his mouth with the tip of his tongue. The juice was sweet, the flesh soft and warm. He swallowed when Tony pulled away, smiling slyly at him.

"So, is gardening worth it?" he asked.

Tony hummed low in his throat as he took another berry from him. "Ask me again in half an hour... no, an hour."

"Make it two," said Bruce, pulling him in.


End file.
